Another Country (11 page)

“I don’t think Andrew ever recovered,” Caroline said
quietly. After Harriet had broken off the betrothal, Andrew had
removed to London. Caroline hardly ever saw him anymore, and only
heard from him in brief letters. She had a vague suspicion that he
was involved in little good, and had witnessed her uncle writing a
bank draft for him, irritation and perhaps a little guilt in every
hard line of his face.

“More fool him,” James said. “He was far too smitten
with the girl as it was. She never loved him.”

“What do you care for love!” Caroline scoffed, her
eyes glittering.

James was quiet for a moment. “More than you think.
I know you believe me to be completely heartless, my dear, but I
assure you it is not so. There was a time...” he shrugged. “It
hardly signifies now.”

Caroline was intrigued, but she kept her tongue. Her
uncle would not thank her for asking prying questions. “What about
Ian?”

“Mr. Campbell to you. His family
was in dire straits. They wanted to sell some land, about twenty
acres. I offered to buy the entire farm, for a very decent price.
Ian accepted.”

Caroline bit her lip. Something was
wrong with her uncle’s telling of the story, she was sure. How
could Ian--Mr. Campbell--be angry about that? “It can’t be that
simple.”

“Well, I assure you it was,” James snapped. “If the
foolish boy didn’t read the contract properly, it can hardly be my
fault. He thought I was only buying the twenty acres... and for
such a sum! He’d no notion of business at all.”

“His man of business must have known,” Caroline
objected. She knew little about such affairs, but she believed
there was more to the story than her uncle would have her
believe.

“He wasn’t involved, and why should he be?”

“To keep you from taking advantage of him!”

“I hardly did that. I offered him every opportunity
to look over the arrangements. It’s his own fault for being
careless, my dear niece, and that is precisely the reason he is so
angry now.”

Still Caroline shook her head. “But he was only a
boy.”

“He was sixteen. I was managing
affairs by then, I assure you. Now, I’ve had quite enough of this
discussion.” Edward glanced down at the papers on his desk,
frowning, before he shuffled them into a pile. “You hardly have a
head for business, so I don’t expect you to understand the finer
points of such a transaction,” he added, to Caroline’s fury. He
glanced at her knowingly. “You’ve professed quite an interest in
Campbell. I wouldn’t go setting my cap at him, if I were you. He’s
hardly suitable.”

“Setting my cap...!” Caroline flushed. “I’m doing no
such thing! His sister, Eleanor, happens to be a good friend of
mine.”

“The Campbells are hardly likely to
advance your social position in this city,” Edward remarked
mildly.

“I told you, they are friends with the Moores, who
are very well placed.”

“Beggars at the table. Hardly a position you need
covet.”

Caroline shifted uneasily. She had
had her own notions of the Campbells’ placement in society. If
anything, she’d felt a vague but satisfying pity for Eleanor and
her mended, out-of-date dresses, her pride in keeping a bourgeois
little house. Still, she did not like to hear it put so crudely by
her uncle.

“I’m sure the Campbells are well
respected here.”

Edward raised his eyebrows. “After
the little episode at that musicale, I wouldn’t be surprised if Ian
Campbell’s reputation is a bit tarnished now.” He smiled. “Now,
don’t get into a huff, Caroline. The boy would hardly suit you.
He’s a hotheaded, penniless doctor, and the hospital isn’t even
pleased with his work, or so I’ve heard.”

“Where did you hear that? You didn’t even know he
lived here!” Caroline protested, her face pale.

“I have my sources. And as you said, he’s dangling
after Moore’s daughter, so he isn’t worth your time.”

Caroline found she was trembling. “You keep your ear
to the ground, I see.”

“It suits us both for me to do so.
You’ve made it plain you want to contract an eligible match; I
desire the same. So let us waste no more time discussing a foolish
boy who cannot possibly help you fulfill such an aim.” Edward
smiled, holding out his hands in supplication. “I’ve arranged a
treat for you tonight. Let’s not spoil it with petty
arguments.”

“A treat?” Caroline found herself
unbending, despite her determination not to yield. Resting on high
principles, especially for near strangers,
was
uncomfortable. “What kind of
treat?”

“We’re dining out, with friends. A gentleman of my
acquaintance will be one of our party. I think you might find him
to be congenial company.”

“Perhaps,” Caroline returned grudgingly, but she was
ensnared by her own curiosity, and her uncle knew it. He
chuckled.

“Go put on something fetching. And why don’t you
order some new gowns from the modiste? I have the name of a
fashionable one, on Tremont Street. You can hardly have a
successful season here without a few frocks and fripperies.”

Caroline was astute enough to know she was being
bought, and she fleetingly wondered why. She pushed the question
out of her mind, for the prospect of new gowns was too tempting to
resist. And she did need them, if she was to be seen in society at
all. The fashions in Boston were quite different.

Caroline hurriedly bestowed a kiss on her uncle’s
cheek.

“Thank you, uncle.” She left the
room, determined to forget about Ian Campbell. He was a stranger,
and as her uncle had said, a penniless doctor at that.

Caroline paused, recalling Ian’s ready smile, his
cheerful good nature with a little twist of longing. No, she barely
knew him. And all things considered, perhaps it should stay that
way.

CHAPTER SIX

Rupert gazed out at the rain-washed streets of
Boston and sighed contentedly. He’d only been working for Henry
Moore for a week, but already he loved his work and his adopted
city.

“Have you finished those yet?” Aubrey, Henry’s
personal clerk and office manager, glanced at him with ill
disguised impatience. “Accounts are dull work, I’m sure, but they
must be done.”

“Far from dull,” Rupert replied civilly. The other
clerks had not warmed to him, and Rupert knew why. He was
uneducated, from the backwoods of Canada, and he’d been given a job
most promising young men would struggle for.

He also saw the glint of suspicion in Aubrey’s eyes,
the fear for his own job. There was no hiding that Henry favored
his brother-in-law, even if he insisted on giving him the most
menial of office tasks. Whenever Henry came into the offices, he
spoke with Rupert, joked with him even. The other clerks
seethed.

“
Compared to ploughing fields, this
is positively scintillating,” Rupert added. As a joke, it fell
flat, reminding the other man of his own inadequate
background.

“Not a farmer, then, are you?” Aubrey sneered.

“No.” A pang of guilt assailed him, for he knew
farming was honest work and worse, how much his father had longed
for him to continue on at Mingarry Farm.

Rupert glanced down at his neat row of figures. Yes,
he was happy tallying numbers for Henry, but his eye was on greater
things. He spent his free time reading newspapers or listening to
the talk on the docks, in the public houses, even outside the
gentlemen’s clubs. A word here, a tip there, and he found he was
already discovering new investment opportunities. He looked forward
to telling Henry of his plans, when the time was right.

“Ready?” Charles, one of the junior clerks, walked
up to Aubrey. Rupert knew they were all going to the Union Oyster
House, as they did every Saturday night. So far he had not been
invited. He wanted the amity of his coworkers, yet he understood
why it was not forthcoming and he was honest to acknowledge that he
valued his own ambition more.

“
I’m finished.” Rupert pushed the
figures towards Aubrey, who nodded shortly. “I’ll check them on
Monday. It’s too late now.” As if that were Rupert’s fault, when
the figures had only been given him half an hour ago.

He shrugged easily, refusing to be baited. Charles
shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t suppose you want to join us,
MacDougall?”

Aubrey glanced at the younger man
sharply. No doubt Charles would pay for his moment of grace.Rupert
smiled with regret. “Another time, perhaps. I’m afraid I’m already
engaged this evening.” Even if he were not, he wouldn’t go with the
other men. Not yet. Not till he’d proven himself, and won their
respect.

Aubrey nodded. “Of course. You’re dining on the
hill, I suppose?” The sneer, Rupert knew, masked only envy, and who
could blame him? If their positions were reversed, Rupert knew he
would feel as Aubrey did. He wouldn’t be able to help it.

“If you mean at the Moores, yes.” Rupert left it at
that. No need to remind the other men he was family. They were
hardly likely to forget it.

In fact, Rupert had been invited to the Moores’
house along with Ian and Eleanor. It would be a reunion of sorts,
Rupert thought with a smile. He hadn’t seen Ian or Eleanor in over
ten years, when they’d all been little more than children.

He remembered his little schoolboy adventures with
Ian well enough; they’d boarded together for nearly two years. When
Ian had run away, Rupert had kept his secret, even though his
conscience had been sorely tried. Had he done the right thing?
Rupert mused now. Perhaps; Ian had certainly done well for
himself.

Eleanor he could not remember as much more than a
pale slip of a child, with masses of hair and a gentle way about
her. Harriet had told him she was widowed; he wondered what else
the years had made of her.

He enjoyed the walk from Henry’s offices near Quincy
Market to the Moores’ elegant row house on Tremont Street. Rupert
did not miss the new shops opening in this prospering section of
the city, including a purveyor of pianos that claimed to produce
four thousand of the instruments in one year, as well as a gourmet
food shop, S.S. Pierce, apparently the first in Boston.

“I’d no idea Boston residents required so many
pianos,” Rupert told Margaret with a twinkle as he entered their
drawing room, divested of his hat and top coat.

“Of course they do,” Margaret replied without
missing a beat, her cheek pressed to his for an instant. “It’s a
sign of prosperity, no doubt.”

She looked, as always, elegant and refined without
any of the excess frippery so many of the wealthy society women
favoured. Her dress was of rose silk, the hem flounced a good six
inches, not the two or more feet most society women preferred, and
her waist was cinched tightly with a belt in deeper rose.

“Indeed.” Rupert gazed out at the purple hued skies
meditatively, his mind turned once more to the pianos he’d seen,
and the prosperity it indicated. “Indeed.”

A few minutes later Ian Campbell
and Eleanor McCardell were admitted to the drawing room. Rupert
pumped Ian’s hand enthusiastically. Ian had grown up to look quite
distinguished, he thought. Tall and thin, with auburn hair and
vivid green eyes like Harriet, he was dressed in an excellently cut
tail coat with the points of his collar nearly brushing his
cheekbones.

Rupert immediately felt every inch the country boy
he was in his ill fitting frock coat and modest collar. There was
no need for such fine clothes on island, and he’s only managed to
buy one new suit of clothes on his modest salary.

At the moment Ian looked
preoccupied and drawn, and Rupert wondered if one of his cases at
the hospital were troubling him.

He turned to Eleanor, who had been no more than a
dreamy child when he’d left. The woman in her place bore little
resemblance to the placid natured girl he remembered.

Eleanor stood by the drawing room door, her hair
caught into a neat bun and covered with a modest cap, making her
look older than her years. Her green brocade dress was plain, the
sleeves not nearly as full as fashion required, although the belt
cinched at her waist showed it to be admirably trim.

Her hazel eyes were alert with interest, yet her
hands were folded modestly over her middle.

Caught between matron and maid, Rupert thought
immediately. And who could blame her, a widow at twenty-three years
of age?

Henry came in to greet his guests, and soon they
were all being shepherded to the dining room for an elaborate
meal.

“This is an up and coming neighborhood,” Rupert
remarked as he started on his pigeon pie. “The homes look quite
elegant.”

“Yes, the South End has quite a bit of promise,”
Henry replied. “The South Cove Company has plans to fill in some of
the bay and extend this area by seventy acres.”

“Indeed.”

Margaret chuckled. “You look so thoughtful, Rupert!
What are your plans?”

“Well, since you ask...” Rupert put his fork down,
his expression serious. “It seems to me that all the opportunity is
in this country. Admittedly England and other parts of Europe are
looking to the East for expansion and trade, but as Americans I
think we should look to the West.”

“You’ve been here a week and you consider yourself
an American?” Eleanor asked, her expression dubious and a bit
scornful.

Rupert met her gaze directly, surprised by the
hungry interest flickering in her hazel eyes, before it was quickly
cloaked by a veil of civility.

“I certainly do. America is a young country, and
after the Revolution--”

“Don’t you mean the Rebellion?” Henry interjected
dryly, but Rupert shook his head.

“Revolution,” he said firmly. “As I was saying,
America is poised to expand. They weren’t able to before because of
the War for Independence, and then the second war with England, but
now they’re prime.”